A Shameful Secret

A Shameful Secret

It is the copyright of Linda Sole, England, and it is illegal to copy or reproduce this book in any format without the permission of the publisher or author.

All characters are fictional and do not relate to any person living or dead, unless mentioned as a historical reference.

Cover was designed by Yvette Lynn, using Stock Photo.

All rights reserved.

Ann

Chapter One

“You must admit, my dear Araminta, that your delightful, though sadly irresponsible, son Robert is in trouble. And I fear that if you want my help in this matter, then you must be prepared to give me something in return.”

Charlotte, Countess of Danbury, fixed her cousin with a charming but determined look that would have wilted a much stronger character than Araminta Weston possessed. She was a woman of something over forty, dressed in the height of fashion, wealthy in her own right due to two fortuitous marriages, and still attractive. Her companion however, was a diminutive woman with an air of resignation, as though life had not treated her as well as it might.

They were sitting in the small but pretty parlor of Mrs Weston’s East Anglian home. For the middle of June, it was wetter and colder than usual, though that day the sun was filtering in through the long French windows, showing up the fading in the once rich carpet and the curtains that were beginning to show signs of wear.

“Naturally, I should be extremely grateful and happy to oblige in almost any way,” Araminta fluttered helplessly. . “But my late husband forbade me to allow Hester such pleasures. He said I must never forget her shame.”

“If I may say so, Araminta, Harold Weston was a fool and a bully. I thought so when you married him, and I have not revised my opinion since. Besides, he has been dead more than nine months, and I do not think his opinions should weigh with you now.”

“Oh, Charlotte,” her cousin said tearfully. “I do not know what to do. Henry never forgave her you know—and it
was
quite shocking.”

Privately, Charlotte thought that the most shocking thing about the whole business was the way the Westons had treated their only daughter, but to say so at this moment would not get her what she wanted. Araminta was perhaps a foolish woman, but she could be coaxed if one had enough patience.

“It was also eight years ago, my dear cousin. Long enough to be put aside, I believe? I think Hester has been punished enough—do you not agree in your heart?”

“Well . . .” Araminta sighed.  “Yes, perhaps.”

“Well, those are my terms,” Charlotte said. “Come, think about it, Minta! You will have your sister Jane here to keep up your spirits, and I shall have Hester to bear me company in Bath. It is not as if I intend to parade her on the marriage market, for she is five-and-twenty after all.”

Araminta looked at her speculatively. “And if I agree that you may have Hester as your companion, you will pay all Robert’s gambling debts?”

“I shall settle the ten thousand pounds he so recklessly threw away last week, and he will promise to buckle down and put his estate in order. After that, we shall see. I might do something more for him if he shows that he has a mind to reform.”

“Then, it seems I have no choice but to agree,” Araminta said,  “Robert will have to find himself an heiress—and if Hester is settled with you, I can live comfortably on my dower.”

“Your sister has a small competence of her own I believe,” Charlotte said. “You might retire to one of the less fashionable spars and live quietly instead of rattling about this barn of a place if you chose.”

“Yes, we might do that,” Araminta agreed, looking happier now that it was settled. “But, of course, even if I have given you my consent, you will still have to persuade Hester. I am not sure that she would wish to accompany you. She has become very much a recluse these past years.”

“Then it is time she was taken out of herself,” Charlotte said firmly. She would have no backsliding now! “Where is she? Will you send for her to come down?”

“She has gone on an errand to the Vicarage,” Araminta said. “But she should be back very shortly.”

* * * *

Hester Weston paused as she left the Vicarage after giving her mother’s message to Mrs. Simpkins and staying for a glass of gooseberry wine and a slice of seed cake. Despite the best efforts of the sun, the wind was chilly, and she pulled her warm, woollen shawl up around her neck, hardly relishing the long walk to Weston House, which was at least a mile past the other side of the village. She sighed, wishing that she might have conducted her mother’s errand on horseback, but riding was one of the pleasures her late father had forbidden her after . . . her shameful behavior.

Hester felt the sting of her father’s words as keenly as if it were only yesterday, though they had been spoken more than eight years earlier. After that time, he had refused to speak directly to her, addressing her through her mother or a servant. He had meant to show her that she had fallen so far that she was dead in his eyes. Perhaps it might have been better if she had died, Hester thought. At least then she would have been spared the bitterness of these past years.

Seeing a small girl playing in the street, Hester felt a lump in her throat. She stopped to watch her for a moment. Her own daughter might have been about the same age had she lived. She blinked back the foolish tears that threatened to overcome her and walked on, wanting now to get home so that she could see everything had been done to make her cousin comfortable. She was thoughtful as she walked, for she could never see a child without remembering all those things she found so painful.

She had been walking for some minutes when she heard the sound of a horse’s hooves from behind her. She stepped to the grass verge at the side of the narrow road to allow the rider to pass for the lane was quite narrow. However, as she waited patiently, the horse slowed to a halt and the gentleman tipped his hat to her.

“Good morning, ma’am,” he said politely. “Forgive me for disturbing you, but I believe I have missed my way. I wonder if you could direct me to Holdenby Hall please?”

For a moment, Hester’s heart caught with fright, for the words were the very same as those uttered fatally more than eight years earlier, the words that had led to a broken heart and her terrible shame. She breathed deeply, taking a moment to recover her composure before looking up at the face of the man who had spoken. Thank God, it was not
he
! Had it been, she could not have answered for her actions, for she had often thought she might like to strike that other one. Indeed, in her grief-maddened dreams, she had longed to wreak bloody revenge on the man who had ruined her life, though when she was awake and thinking sensibly, she knew that she would never do such a thing. She was in fact, a well-brought-up and conscientious lady, and her lapse from grace had been unfortunate rather than deliberate.

“Are you all right?” The man was looking at her in concern now, his blue eyes narrowing as he saw how pale she was. “Did I startle you?”

“A little,” Hester confessed, forcing herself to put away her foolish memories. “I believe you have taken the wrong fork, sir. You must return to the crossroads and take the road to the right. I believe there is a milestone with the inscription, Holdenby Village two miles, but it may have become overgrown again.”

“Ah, yes, that would explain it. Josh told me there was a milestone, but I did not see it as I rode. Thank you very kindly, ma’am, and forgive me if I came upon you too suddenly.”

There was sincerity in his deep voice, and his smile was like a gentle caress. Despite the warnings in her head, Hester found herself responding to his charm.

“Are you staying with Lady Holdenby?” she asked. “She told me last week that she expected her brother Josh for a visit and that he might bring friends to stay at the Hall.”

“We were in France together,” the man replied. “Served under Wellington, on his staff. Captain Paul Crawford at your service, ma’am.”

“Hester Weston,” she replied, her heart beating quickly, too quickly. He was charming and good-looking, she supposed, in a rather stern, forbidding way. Blue eyes, strong features and dark hair combined to make him a man who would always be noticed—and this was all wrong! She knew what such chance encounters led to, and she was disobeying her father’s last orders to her as he lay dying. She was to stay at home with her mother for the rest of her life and never think of shaming her family again. “Excuse me, Captain Crawford, I must hurry. I am expected at home.”

“Of course, forgive me,” he said and swept his hat from his dark head once more before turning his horse to ride off the way he had come.

Hester could not resist a last glance at him as she turned homeward. He was not the most handsome gentleman she had ever seen, but he had good bone structure; a soft, sensuous mouth; and a deep, pleasant voice. Despite her father’s unkindness, her mother’s reproaches, and the knowledge that she could never expect to marry, Hester had occasionally thought of it. In the ridiculous dreams she sometimes experienced, the kind and generous man she longed for rode up on his horse and carried her off to a life of domestic bliss. For her to hanker after something that could never be hers was foolish. She would never know the joy of holding her child in her arms, or the happiness of being loved by a man who loved her in return.

At first rebellious, Hester had come to accept that she had indeed brought shame on her family, and that she must bear her punishment as best she might. It had been very hard for a girl of spirit to accept, but over the years, the light inside her had dimmed, and at five-and-twenty, she was not the foolish romantic who had given her heart so easily.

Hester sighed as she smothered the memories. To hope for something that could never be was ridiculous. Her mother needed her at home now that her father was dead. He had died without forgiving his daughter, and that had hurt Hester deeply. She knew that she had been foolish, but she had never meant to be wicked, and she had longed for her father’s forgiveness, but it had not been granted her.

As she ran the last few steps towards her home, she saw that a mountain of luggage was in the hall still waiting to be carried upstairs. That must mean Cousin Charlotte had arrived. Hester smiled, and for a moment, her face lit up, and the air of repression left her. She went directly to her mother’s sitting room, and hearing her cousin’s voice, she hesitated for a moment at the door. Charlotte was describing a gown she had seen in
La Belle Asemblee
, the magazine that all ladies of fashion avidly sought, and Araminta was eagerly asking for more details of the latest designs. She stopped speaking and frowned as her daughter entered.

“You have been a long time, Hester?”

“Mrs. Simpkins kept me talking,” Hester said. “I came straight home afterwards, Mama.” There was no need to mention the gentleman who had stopped to speak to her, for it was but a chance meeting. “It is good to see you again, Cousin Charlotte. I hope you have come to stay with us for a long visit?”

“As to that, I am on my way to Bath where I shall spend a few weeks for the sake of my health. Danbury may visit from time to time I daresay, but his work in the House keeps him in London much of the time—and that is the reason, I have come here to beg the favor of your company, Hester. I have persuaded dear Araminta that she must spare you to me, and I have her agreement.”